


Where My Demons Hide

by Saoirse_Laochra



Category: Four Brothers (2005)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Child Death, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Explicit Language, Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saoirse_Laochra/pseuds/Saoirse_Laochra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Says here you’re fourteen, Jack. Fourteen years old and this is your…” He flipped a few pages absently, already knowing the number. “Tenth arrest. Let’s see here… Four counts of possession of cocaine… Two counts of theft… Two disturbing the peace… One count of prostitution… And now an assault charge. Well, I gotta tell you, Jackie Boy, that is a pretty damn impressive record for somebody your age."</p><p>How Jack becomes a Mercer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Connor Britton sighed, stepping into the small interrogation room, his eyes studiously looking at the thick file he held open in both hands. Avoiding looking at the small, stick-thin teenage boy sitting at the table.

“Jackson Jamison Wilcox,” Connor read slowly, although he’d familiarized himself with the file before he’d entered the room. Thirty-two pages of general nastiness that made him hate the world a little bit more, he thought as he came to a stop behind the boy, leaning on the wall lazily.

“Says here you’re fourteen, Jack. Fourteen years old and this is your…” He flipped a few pages absently, already knowing the number. “Tenth arrest. Let’s see here… Four counts of possession of cocaine… Two counts of theft… Two disturbing the peace… One count of prostitution… And now an assault charge. Well, I gotta tell you, Jackie Boy, that is a pretty damn impressive record for somebody your age. Shit, we get thirty year olds in here that ain’t got records that long.”

The small blonde boy didn’t respond, other than hunching further into the chair. His hands –handcuffed together, and to the table –twitched nervously around nothing, his head hanging, shoulder length hair covering most of his face. Other than his hands, he was absolutely still.

With a sigh, Connor moved around to the other side of the table, plopping himself down in the chair, closing the file and setting it on the table.

“What? Got nothin’ to say, Jackie?” Connor asked, tilting his head a bit to try and catch the kid’s eye. “You know, this is usually the part where you say you didn’t do it, you were framed, guy had it comin’… And you got nothin’ for me?”

A slight head twitch was the only response he received from the kid, and Connor sighed again.

“Look… Jack. This isn’t gonna end well for you if you don’t help me out here, alright? You did a lot of damage to that clerk; he’s in the hospital right now. You just… You gotta give me somethin’ to work with, kid. Did he come on to you? Try to force you to do somethin’, for ya into the john with him? He just… say somethin’ that sent you over the edge? C’mon, kid, had to be reason,” He said coaxingly.

“I… I just… I just needed the money.”

Connor leaned back in the chair, a little surprised. For such a small kid, the boy had a baritone voice. But he latched on to the kid’s words.

“For what, Jackie? Why’d you need the money? Drugs? Booze?” He almost felt bad when the kid started to tremble, obviously afraid, as he shook his head ‘no’. “Alright then, what was it, kid? What’d you need the money for?”

Connor could feel the blood drain from his face, as the kid finally looked up, his hair falling to the side, giving the detective a clear view of the bruises covering the kid’s face.

Bruises in all colors of the rainbow. Bruises too old to be from that night.

Only one of the kid’s bright blue eyes was visible; the other was completely swollen shut. Probably from the same blow that’d broken his nose, Connor noted almost distantly. His lip had been busted open –although that was probably from the fight with the gas station clerk, since there was still dried blood flecked around the edges.

But the large, dark yellow bruise was at least a day old. And it looked a lot like a handprint.

Shit.

“Kid… what happened, huh?” Connor asked softly, internally cursing the uniforms who’d brought the kid in looking like that, and not told him. “Why’d you need that money, huh?”

Jack finally met his gaze, biting his lip, fingers twitching a mile a minute.

“I… Nobody… Nobody wants me when… when I look like this. And I… He needs the money, or –“

The young boy cut off sharply, obviously knowing he’d said too much. He bowed his head low again, the hair sliding back to cover his face, tapping his foot against the floor in agitation.

“Or he’ll what, Jack?” Connor asked softly. “What’ll happen?”

“Can… Can I go home now? Please?”

Connor sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “Not yet, kid. I’ll be back in a few minutes, alright?”

He didn’t wait for a response, hustling out the door, and down to one of the payphones typically reserved for those making their ‘one phone call’. He dug through his pockets for a few seconds, until he came out with a quarter, and dialed the number he knew he’d never forget.

“Ms. Evelyn? It’s me. I uh… I’ve got a boy down here I think you should come and see.”

Evelyn had barely hung the phone up when she spotted the shadow in her doorway.

“You know, at one time, I used to handle these things all by myself. Really,” She said, a small smile on her lips as she stared at her oldest son. “No help at all.”

Twenty-one year old Bobby Mercer grunted as he stepped into the room. “Yeah, and I remember how well that worked out with me an’ Angel,” He said darkly as he sat on the bed next to Evelyn. “Who was it?”

“A… detective at the station,” She said quickly, hoping Bobby wouldn’t ask any more than that. From the look he’d given her, he’d noticed her hesitation, but blew it off.

“All I gotta do is put on shoes. Started the coffee ‘fore I came up.”

Evelyn sighed as Bobby stalked back out of the room as quietly as he’d entered, completely at odds with his stocky frame.

Ever since Angel –the latest adoptee to the Mercer family –had arrived, and broken Evelyn’s wrist and nose during a panic attack the first time he’d met her, Bobby no longer let her go to any of her calls alone.

Although ,she thought as she quickly changed from her pajamas to her clothes, it was often nice having Bobby along. There were a few times where having him there had saved her from a lot of pain. Like the boy a few months ago, coming down of crank for example. If Bobby hadn’t grabbed it, the chair the poor thing had thrown probably would have caught Evelyn full on in the face.

“Car’s warmin’ up, coffee’s still gonna be a few minutes,” Bobby said, interrupting her thoughts as he stepped back into her room. “We goin’ to the station, or they already moved him?”

Evelyn shook her head. “The way he talked, I don’t think they’ve even told Social Services yet.

Bobby shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Awesome. That’s just perfect.”

“Detective?”

Connor stood, and forced himself to smile at the elderly woman moving towards him.

“Ms. Evelyn,” He said respectfully, reaching out to shake her hand. “Good to see you.” He turned his gaze to the short, muscular young man shadowing her. “Bobby.”

“Britton..”

“Bobby,” Evelyn said softly. “Play nice.”

Connor could feel the hair rising on the back of his neck as Bobby fixed him with a cold smile.

“Oh, I plan on it, ma. Where’s the kid, Britton, and why the fuck are we here at two in the mornin’?”

“This way, Ms. Evely,” Connor said, grabbing Ms. Evelyn’s arm, and guiding her down towards the interrogation rooms.

“They brought him in a few hours ago, but I just got around to talking to him maybe half an hour ago. I only talked to him for a few minutes before I called you.”

“What was he popped for?”

Connor spared a glare back over his shoulder at Bobby, before turning his attention back to Ms. Evelyn. “He assaulted a clerk at a convenience store. Tried grabbing a handful of cash from the register, the clerk tried to stop him, kid beat the everlovin’ piss out of him.”

“And you dragged my ma down here at two in the fuckin’ mornin’ because…?”

“You know what, Mercer? When I start addressing you? You can start askin’ the damn questions. Otherwise, just shut up, and do your thug thing, alright?” Connor finally snapped, turning, and going toe to toe with the younger man.

After a few moments, Evelyn sighed, stepping in between the two, with a gentle hand on Bobby’s chest. “Boys, please. Have your pissing contest tomorrow?” When Bobby gave her a small, curt nod, she turned her attention back to Connor. “To be fair, Detective, I’m wondering the same thing. While most kids with good, healthy home lives don’t go around robbing gas stations, that doesn’t necessarily equate to you calling me in. Especially this early.”

Connor gave her a grim smile as he stopped in front of the viewing room door, opening it, and ushering her inside. “Take a look at the kid, then I’ll tell you what he said, and you can decide if I made the right call, or if I’m just wasting your time.”

 

Bobby barely stopped himself from pounding the shit out of the back of Connor’s head as the man shoulder-checked him to get in the small room in front of him. But a backwards glance from Evelyn kept him in check, and he took a deep breath to calm himself before stepping into the room, and getting his first glimpse of the kid.

He sighed. Damn kid couldn’t have been much older than thirteen, maybe fourteen, pacing around the room restlessly, his light-wash jeans hugging his hips tightly, riding low enough that Bobby wondered how he was keeping the damn things up. His white wife-beater clung tightly to his thin, emaciated chest, showcasing his thin arms wrapped around his torso.

And it looked like somebody had taken a damn two-by-four to his face. The hair hid a lot of it, but what Bobby could see looked bruised, bloody, or raw.

“Those don’t look like fresh bruises,” Evelyn said softly, causing Bobby to start. He’d almost forgotten he wasn’t alone in the room.

“They’re not,” Connor said quietly. “I asked him about it, and he said, ‘nobody wants me when I look like this, and he needs the money’. So I called you. Figure he’s either hustlin’ on the streets, and his pimp beat the hell out of him, or step-daddy’s pushing him out there and beating the hell out of him. Either way, somebody’s beatin’ the hell outta this poor kid, and he’s gonna need somebody in his corner. Figured it might as well be you.”

“You haven’t located any next of kin?” Bobby asked quietly, unable to take his eyes off the kid.

“Couldn’t contact anyone at either of his listed address, or at the phone numbers he gave us. Supposedly we’ve got a mother on Brooks, and a father on Mulrauny, but we couldn’t get a hold of either. Both of ‘em have some pretty serious rap sheets of their own though. And little Jackie here is well on his way to a nice long sheet of his own. This is arrest number ten.”

“Priors?” Bobby asked gruffly, his rivalry with the older man temporarily forgotten.

“Four for possession, two for disturbing the peace, two theft, one count of prostitution, and now this assault charge.”

“When was he picked up for the prostitution?” Evelyn asked quietly, shaking her head.

“ ‘Bout a year and a half ago. He would have been around twelve.”

“Shit, ma,” Bobby swore softly. “Why the fuck wasn’t he removed back then?”

Connor shrugged again, a bit guiltily this time. “Couldn’t contact the parents then either. Both him and the john claimed nothin’ was happening, that the john was just a good Samaritan trying to give him a ride, so the detectives didn’t pursue it too hard.

Bobby snorted. “Our lovely tax dollars at work.”

“Well, if your money wasn’t dirty, Mercer, I might _actually_ care what you think,” Connor retorted, but both men could tell that his heart wasn’t really in it.

“So he’s what… Fourteen? Fifteen?”

Connor nodded as he ushered the pair out of the room. “Fourteen. Birthday was two months ago. I uh… I dunno how you wanna play this, Ms. Evelyn. I called you because I thought you’d be able to help. I know… We already failed this kid once… I know I should have went through all the right channels,  and jumped through the right hoops, but it would’ve taken all night. Would’ve had to stick him in Holding, and it’s been busy; we’re just about filled to the rafters down there. Figured if he’s an abused hooker, puttin’ him in a room with a bunch of pervs, freaks, and cons probably wouldn’t end well.”

“Aren’t you going to have to put him in Holding anywas?” Evelyn asked quizzically, coming to a stop in front of the interrogation room door. “I mean… he _is_ under arrest, right?”

Connor hesitated for a moment. “If the kid’s _advocate_ were to tell my superiors that he couldn’t be placed in Holding… That it’d be a danger… We could probably either leave him here until we can get a bail hearing in the morning, or maybe even in one of the actual interview rooms.”

Evelyn smiled, patting Connor on the cheek. “I’ll do my best, Detective Britton. But you need to tell your people what’s going on, and have somebody call my people. We don’t want this boy being sent back to his parents because of a technicality.”

With that, she entered the small room, Bobby close on her heels.


	2. Chapter 2

Bobby moved into the corner, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the wall, his eyes following every move the kid made as Evelyn sat down in the chair, smiling softly.

“Hello, Jack.”

The kid barely looked up, but Bobby watched the kid’s eyes take in both him and Evelyn in a split second, right before he started chewing nervously on his lip, hands twitching absently against the table.

“Who… who are you?”

“I’m Evelyn Mercer. This is my son, Bobby. I’m here as your Guardian Ad Litem. Do you know what that is, Jack?”

The sound of the kid’s foot  tapping against the floor picked up pace, as he shook his head.

“It means I’m responsible for your safety until we can locate your parents. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?”

“Can… Can I go home afterwards?”

Evelyn smiled kindly, and ignored the question. “Can I ask what happened to your face, honey?”

There was a few minutes of silence –aside from the tap-tap-tap from the kid’s foot –before he finally looked up, still not meeting Evelyn’s eye.

“Might take a while. To locate my folks,” He explained with an uncomfortable shrug.

Evelyn nodded. “That’s what I heard. Any idea where they might be?”

“I… Not at home.”

“Oh, gee, that’s real fuckin’ helpful, kid,” Bobby said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “We kinda guessed they weren’t home. Any elaborations on where ‘not at home’ they might be?”

Bobby caught the barest hints of anger when the kid looked at him, but the boy quickly ducked his head again.

“I don’t know. They’re not home a lot… And they don’t usually answer the phone even if they are.”

“What happened to your neck, kid?”

Thank God the kid was handcuffed, Bobby thought ruefully. He damn near jumped out of the chair.

* * *

 

Connor watched as impassively as he could as Jack drew in on himself.

“None of your damn business,” He muttered.

Bobby shrugged lazily. “A’ight. But you might wanna get it looked at if it’s a regular thing. Lotta people don’t realize how much gettin’ choked can fuck with a person.”

“Oh yeah? The hell would you know about it?” The kid snapped, finally looking over at Bobby, and meeting his gaze for the first time.

Bobby chuckled, and Connor inwardly braced himself as the young man pulled his the collar of his hoodie down. While he couldn’t see it from the angle he was at, Connor knew what was there. Knew exactly what he was showing the kid. The white, thin, raised scar that encircled Bobby’s neck, the scar that still haunted Connor’s nightmares.

“You do that to him?” The kid mumbled, sparing a quick glare at Evelyn.

Evelyn wisely only shook her head, waiting for Bobby to speak.

“That happened back when I was ‘bout your age. ‘Fore my ma here adopted me. My folks… Let’s just say they weren’t real big into huggin’,” Bobby said casually, although Connor could see the way his shoulders had tensed.

Jack eyed Evelyn suspiciously for a few moments, before ducking his head again.

“Can I go home now? Please?”

Connor sighed as Miss Evelyn and Bobby left the interrogation room. They were no further along than they had been when they started.

Miss Evelyn shook her head sadly as she entered the viewing room. "I'm sorry, Detective Britton. He's not willing to give anything up yet."

Bobby frowned as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed across his chest. "So what now?"

Connor shrugged helpless. "I put him in a cell overnight, and transfer him to the juvenile facility in the morning. Then he sits there until we can contact one or both of his parents. And unless he gives us something to work with, he's going to be charged with attempted burglary, and felony assault."

"Are you kiddin' me? Hell, Britton, did you not see the kid's face? The way he's dressed? Somebody's pushin' that kid to work the corner, whorin' himself out. Or what about that mark on his neck? You an' I both know I wasn't fuckin' with him 'bout that; we both know what causes a fuckin' mark like that. Somebody wrapped somethin’ ‘round that kid’s neck, and choked him, loosened it up, then choked him again. Somebody did that to him, not once, not twice, but over and over again!”

"And just what the hell would you like me to do, Mercer? Let him walk, and put him back out on the street, whoring himself out for a meal? Goin' home to his parents? Unless he tells us somethin', I can't do anything!"

Bobby glowered, growling under his breath for a moment, before storming out of the room.

A few seconds later, Connor and Miss Evelyn watched as Bobby stomped his way into the interrogation room.

* * *

 

Bobby slammed the door shut behind him, glaring through the one-way mirror, before swinging the chair around, and sitting down, setting his arms on the back.

"Alright, kid, listen up. This ain't gonna end well for you, no matter which way you spin it. You don't tell us anything, that cop who was in here before is gonna throw your ass in jail. And you won't be gettin' paid for it by the guys in there, kid. They'll just rip your ass apart, choke you out some more, maybe slap you around a bit. And after that, they haul you off to court, where –given your record, and the charges –you'll probably end up in juvie until you turn eighteen. Maybe a few years after that in an adult jail. An’ guess what happens to boys like you in juvie, kid?

"Option number two: you give us some sad story about you being homeless, that you need the cash, blagh blagh blagh, maybe a bleedin' heart judge buys your shit, and lets you off with probation. You go back to whoever smashed your face in, choked you out… And I'm willin' to bet you got some bruises your hidin' under those clothes, although granted, with the skin you're showin' off, that can't be easy. And whoever you go runnin' back to is probably gonna shove you right back out onto the streets, Jackie boy. Make you keep fuckin’ and suckin’ ‘til it kills you."

The kid looked up at him through the lanky blonde hair, his eyes suspicious, and Bobby couldn't help but sigh. He knew what the kid was going through. He'd done the same thing with Evelyn. No matter what she'd said to him, he'd been suspicious, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"What do you want from me?" Jack asked quietly, his voice completely broken. Hopeless.

"I want the truth, Jack. I wanna help you. You tell the cop out there what's happening; who used your face as a punching bag, who's forcin' you to work the corner. You do that, and you get to walk outta here. You can come home with my ma and me."

The kid scoffed. "Oh yeah? Then what?"

Most people wouldn't have understood what he meant, but Bobby knew. "You tell us the truth, about who's doin' this to you, and we put 'em away. That detective out there puts 'em in jail."

"And what happens to me?"

"You stay with us until we find somethin' more permanent."

Bobby held only the tiniest sliver of hope that the kid would go for it. He knew that chances were, Jack would consider what he said, but he wouldn't bite. Not yet. Kid wasn’t desperate enough. Not yet, anyways.

And there it was. Bobby noticed the split second flash of hope on the kid's face, before he closed down again.

"There's nothing to tell. I just wanna go home."

Bobby pursed his lips, nodding his head understandingly. "Alright. I didn't figure you'd do anything different, kid."

Jack looked up, staring at Bobby searchingly with his one good eye. "Then why'd you try?"

Bobby chuckled a little, scratching at his face. "Truth, kid? Well… I sat where you're sittin', not too long ago. Listened to the same spiel I'm givin' you, although granted, it was a lot more… polite. And I did the same thing you're doin' right now. Tryin' to find the hidden angle. Figure out what I was really bein' offered. What the catch was. Lettin' myself think that maybe –maybe just this once –I'd caught a break. That somethin' was goin' right. Then I realized that it wasn't. Things didn't go right for me.

"So just like you're gonna do in a few minutes, I made a choice. A choice that ended up costin' me a lot of blood. A lot of pain. Like it's gonna cost you. But I figured… sittin' on this side of the table for once, maybe this was my chance to try and balance out karma or some shit."

Jack scoffed. "Alright, so you paid back your 'debt to society' or whatever the hell you wanna call it. Can I go home now?"


	3. Chapter 3

Judge Alfonso peered over the top of his glasses at the group of people sitting at the tables in front of him.

"Ms. Evelyn, may I ask how you came to be this young man's guardian ad litem?" He asked, a small smile on his face and twinkle in his eye. "Not that I don't enjoy the sight of your pleasant face in my courtroom, but this is a little unusual for you. Bit early in the game for a guardian ad litem, isn’t it?"

Evelyn smiled at the elderly gentleman. "Well, Liam, that's a little complicated. Can we have a sidebar please?" She said, a pointed look at Jack, who was sitting between her, and his new defense attorney.

The judge nodded, and indicated for the prosecution and defense to come to the bench.

"Alright, Ms. Evelyn. Let's cut to the chase. Unless my new glasses are the wrong prescription, it looks to me like that boy took one hell of a beating a few days ago. Which is a few days before the incidence that brings us here today. I'm going to assume the detective in charge… One…" He glanced down at the papers on his desk, "Detective Britton… called you in assuming abuse. Am I right so far?" At Evelyn's nod, he pursed his lips, and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you can explain to me why your office was just as uninformed as I was a few minutes ago?"

Evelyn sighed. "Detective Britton called me in last night, after he seen the same… marks that you saw, as well as the way the boy was dressed. I concurred with his assumption that the boy was working as a prostitute. Because the holding cells were a bit crowded last night, he wanted me to try and talk to the child, and see if I could… convince him to tell us what had happened."

"It says here… He needed the money because –and I quote – 'nobody wants me when I look like this, and _he_ needs the money'? Is that correct?" The judge asked.

"That's right, Liam."

"So you were hoping to try and get the case thrown out by claiming mental stress and/or duress? And then you'd take home another lost duckling," He said with a slight chuckle, before his face sobered up again. "Alright. Did he give you anything that might suggest that?"

Evelyn's smile faded. "Unfortunately, no, Liam. He was too afraid."

"I… see." Liam pulled his glasses off, and rubbed at his forehead. "And his parents couldn't be contacted?" At Evelyn's slight shake of the head, he sighed. "Alright. Alright. Mr. Marsten, Mrs. Allen, any thoughts on any of this?"

The prosecutor, Mr. Marsten, shrugged. "No matter what the detective and Ms. Evelyn _assume_ , your Honor, nothing can be proved. And he did break Mr. Kaddurah's arm, and jaw," He said pointedly. “We can argue all day as to why, but the fact remains that he beat my client bloody.”

Marcia Allen shot daggers at the man. "You keep a tone of respect, Donny. That's my foster mother you're talking about," She snapped. "Your Honor, I feel if you view the security footage taken at the time of the incident, you'll find that my client acted in self-defense."

"Really, Marcia?" Marsten snapped. " _That's_ what you're going for here?"

Marcia ignored him. "Your Honor, my client is guilty of trying to grab a handful of cash from the register –which I feel I must add, only carried twenty-three dollars at the time. The assault charge is ridiculous on its face. Mr. Kaddurah attacked my client. Not the other way around. If you view the tape, you'll see that after my client reached into the drawer, Mr. Kaddurah grabbed my client, and bodily hauled him over the counter, before throwing him to the ground behind the register. My client simply reacted. And as far as Detective Britton and my mother's _assumption_ , Donny? My mother has spent the past thirty years helping abused children, of which I _was_ one, I'll remind you. Detective Britton also has a history of working with abused children. And also, may I remind you that Judge Alfonso  _himself_  commented on my client's appearance?"

Liam held up one hand to silence her. "While your zeal is admirable, Mrs. Allen, Ms. Evelyn is fully capable of defending her own honor. And this sidebar has gone on for far too long. Please return to your seats." Then, to the open court, he announced, "Alright, here's how this is going to go. I'm going to my chambers to deliberate. Mr. Wilcox?"

Evelyn had to elbow Jack, who was apparently unused to hearing himself referred to as Mr. Wilcox. At Evelyn's encouraging nod, Jack stood up, shifting from foot to foot, biting his lip nervously.

"Uh… Yes, sir,” He stammered

"I want you in my chambers in twenty minutes, young man. Ms. Evelyn, I'll assume you want to be with him?" He raised on hand as Evelyn nodded, and Marcia Allen went to speak. "I know you want to be with your client as well, Mrs. Allen, but I think we can all agree that Ms. Evelyn won't allow me to brow-beat the boy too badly, correct? Good. Court will reconvene in… oh, let's make it an hour."

 

* * *

 

"So. Mr. Wilcox… What am I supposed to do with you?"

Evelyn watched silently as Jack squirmed in his seat, on the other side of Liam's desk. Evelyn herself sat by the door, doing her best to be unobtrusive.

"I uh… I don't know, sir," He mumbled, staring down at his fidgeting hands.

"Well, let's start with the basics then. Why did you attack Mr. Kaddurah?" Liam asked conversationally, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head.

Jack startled, sitting up a little straighter in his chair, still avoiding Liam's eyes. "I uh… I just… I just needed some money, sir,"

"For what?" When Jack refused to answer, Liam narrowed his eyes, leaning forward as he set his elbows on his desk. "Young man, you're in a _lot_ of trouble here. I don't think you quite understand what’s going on here, so let me explain it to you. Right now, in this room, and out there in the courtroom? I'm _God_ to you, do you understand? I would be fully within my rights as a judge to put you in jail for quite a long time. Given the nature of the attack, and the damage you did to Mr. Kaddurah, along with your previous arrests and extensive record? Four years in a juvenile facility, followed by up to another four years in an adult facility would not be out of the question. And let me tell you something, boy: you may think you're big, and bad, but in there? The men in there will eat you alive. By the time you get out, you will no longer be able to go to the bathroom comfortably, do you understand me?" He finished slowly. "So I advise you, young man, do  _not_  try and be a 'tough guy'. Do  _not_  try and jerk my chain. When I ask you a question, you give me a complete, truthful answer, with a nice pretty 'yes sir' at the end of it. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Jack glared for a moment, before hanging his head. "Yes, sir," He muttered, shifting around in his seat.

"Good. Now I will repeat my question. This is the _only_ time I will repeat myself. Why did you  _need_  the money?"

"I uh… I…" Jack shuffled his feet, and Evelyn could feel her heart being crushed, as his composure broke. In an instant, the tough, belligerent young man was gone, replaced by a scared, trembling boy. Trying to sniffle back the tears, he looked up, and spoke, voice breaking as he said, "I uh… I didn't… didn't make enough… It was a… a slow night. And if I don't… If I don't make enough… He uh… He…" He looked back down, unable to continue, and Evelyn could see the tears dripping from his face down into his lap.

Liam sighed. "He who, Jack?" He asked quietly, discreetly motioning for Evelyn to come over.

Evelyn had only been waiting for his approval; as soon as he had done so, she moved quickly, but carefully, exaggerating her movements as she sat down next to Jack, careful to keep her distance, to not spook him.

"Jack? Jack, it's fine, honey. Nobody's going to hurt you anymore, alright? Everything is going to be fine. But… Honey, we need you to tell us who did this to you. Who needed the money."

Jack swiped the tears away from his face with the sleeve of his ragged hoodie. "I didn't wanna do it. I didn’t, I swear. And I didn’t mean to hurt that guy. But if I didn't… If I don’t bring home enough… He'd… He'd hurt my mom and my little brother. But I didn't want to, I swear!"

Liam's head shot up, and he eyed Evelyn, although he spoke to Jack. "Your little brother?"

Jack nodded dejectedly. "Yeah. Mikey. He's four."

Evelyn sighed. "Jack… You don't want your little brother to have to do what you do, do you?" At Jack's startled look, Evelyn gave him a sad smile. "If 'he' forced you to the streets, why wouldn't he do it with Mikey? But you tell us who 'he' is, Jack, and we'll get you and your mother, and your brother out. We'll get them safe, alright?"

Jack hung his head, chewing on his bottom lip for a few seconds, before sighing. "He's my… my mom's boyfriend. Pete Logsdon."

"And how long has Mr. Logsdon resided with your family, Jack?"

Jack shrugged half-heartedly. "I dunno. Since after my dad left. Since I was seven or eight I guess."

"And how long has he forced you to work as a prostitute?"

Evelyn glared pointedly at Liam, as his question made Jack wince. But apparently the boy's fear of Liam was greater than his embarrassment, since he answered, " 'Bout three and a half years. Four years come this fall."

"Miss Evelyn, I've heard enough. I trust you, and Mr. Wilcox can find your way back to the detention center?" Liam said, his voice hard as he reached for his phone.

Jack's eye grew huge. "You said you wouldn't send me in if I told you! You –"

"Easy, Mr. Wilcox. I'm not 'sending you in' as you put it. But you must remain in custody for a few hours longer. After that, we'll decide whether to let you return to your mother –on the condition she leaves Mr. Logsdon –or if we put you in a foster home. But I have phone calls to make. A few hours, and you'll be walking out of this building a free man."

"Liam, I assume you have Detective Britton's number?" Evelyn asked quietly, as Jack bolted towards the door. "I think he'd like to handle this."

"I'm sure it's in the file. Make sure he doesn't run off, Evelyn," Liam said, his sad gaze trailing after the boy. "I'll take care of the rest."

* * *

 

Connor rubbed his temples tiredly, feeling the pressure of the coming migraine building behind his eyes, and spreading fast. He'd been waiting for a call from Miss Evelyn ever since she’d driven the boy to the courthouse; she'd promised to call him as soon as Judge Alfonso made a decision. His shift had technically ended an hour and a half ago, but he was entitled some overtime anyways.

He jumped, scattering papers across his desk as the shrill ring of the phone cut through the silence. "Hello?" He asked excitedly.

"Is this Detective Connor Britton?" Came a dignified voice from the other end of the line.

"Uh… Yes, this is Detective Britton. How can I help you sir?"

"This is Judge Liam Alfonso. I believe you're the detective in charge of the Wilcox case?"

"Oh! Yes, sir! Is everything all right, sir?"

"I'm faxing over a few warrants for you, Detective. One is for the immediate removal of one… Michael Wilcox, approximately four years of age. The second is for any evidence you can find in the house linking either Peter Logsdon or Lisa Wilcox to child abuse, child endangerment, child neglect, drug use, sexual abuse, etc., etc. The third warrant is for the immediate arrest of Mr. Logsdon. Mixed in there somewhere is a subpoena for Mrs. Wilcox, and Thomas Wilcox, the father of Jackson and Michael Wilcox, to appear at a hearing to determine custody of both children. Think you can handle all that, Detective?"

Connor nodded, a savage smile forming on his face. "Oh trust me, I can more than handle it sir. Is Lisa Wilcox to be placed under arrest if I find sufficient evidence in the house?"

"No. Not yet. But both her, and the younger child are to be taken to the hospital to have a full exam. If she refuses, tell her the truth: She _will_ lose custody of both her children if she refuses to leave Mr. Logsdon. Our young friend indicated Mr. Logsdon frequently abused Mrs. Wilcox as well as the children, so it’s important to remember that she may be as much a victim as the children."

"And what about Jack, your Honor?"

"As soon as you call me, and give me your take on the situation at the house, I'll release him into Miss Evelyn's custody, to be taken to the hospital for a full exam. After that, you, Miss Evelyn, young Mr. Wilcox's attorney, and myself will have a sit down to decide –based off the evidence –if a custody hearing needs to be held, or if the children will be released back to one or both of their biological parents. Satisfactory, Detective?"

"Of course, Your Honor. I'll call you as soon as I'm finished."

"One more thing, Detective Britton."

"Yes, Your Honor?"

"Miss Evelyn wants me to tell you to tell Mr. Mercer to go home."

"Uh… If I see him –"

"Oh no, no, no, Detective Britton. Miss Evelyn and I both know Robert is sitting right there next to you. Tell him Liam says hello, will you?"

Connor grimaced as he heard the dial tone, slowly hanging the phone up, before glancing across his desk.

"Your mom says go home. 'Liam' says hello," He said slowly.

Bobby's grimace matched Connor's. "How the hell does she always know?" He muttered, before shaking his head. "Doesn't matter. Not like she expects me to listen. What's the plan?"

"The plan is, you go home. I go do my cop thing, arrest the bad guy, dig up some evidence… you know the drill."

"Oh, come on, Britton. You ain't sendin' me home. You spent the past four _hours_ sittin' here with me; you're not gonna send me home now."

"You're not a cop, Mercer. You can't come."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "What's it gonna take, huh? I pinky promise to stay in the car?"

"I'll lose my job."

Bobby scoffed. "You kiddin' me, man? This is Detroit. Unless four eye witnesses see you murder the mayor, ain't nobody in this department gettin' fired. Hell, all things considered, that might actually get you promoted to Chief."

Connor sighed, rubbing at his temple with one hand, as he walked towards the fax machine. "You _will_ stay in the car. I will lock you in the back if you give me any shit, do you understand? No debate, no discussing terms. Take it or leave it, Mercer."

Bobby grunted as he stood. "Ain't you just the life of the party. Fine, whatever, let’s just get this shit on the road, huh?”


	4. Chapter 4

Connor glanced across the seat at the boy –no, the young man, he reminded himself –sitting next to him, staring out the window as the Detroit streets passed them by.

"Right back where we started, Mercer."

Bobby shrugged, not looking away from the window. "Not exactly."

Connor chuckled mirthlessly. "How's it different? You sitting there, still pissed, still a thug, still hating me. What the hell's changed?"

Bobby finally looked over at him. "Britton, you give yourself too much fuckin' credit. I ain't hated you in a lotta years."

"Really."

"Yeah, fuckin' really. Ain't never gonna  _like_  you, but it ain't worth my time to  _hate_  you."

Connor was quiet for a few minutes, before he spoke again. "Never forgiven myself for leaving her behind, Bobby. Just want you to know that."

Bobby tensed, his fists closing of their own accord, as memories assailed him like a load of bricks. He forced himself to take a few deep breathes, shoving the memories back, before he could speak.

"I ain't forgiven you either, Britton. She died 'cause you fucked up. I just don't waste my time hatin' you. Ain't what she wouldda wanted. And it sure as hell don't do me no good. Now shut the fuck up and drive. I ain't takin' a trip down memory fuckin' lane to try and make you feel less guilty."

* * *

 

"How much longer do I have to stay here?" Jack asked quietly, arms looped around the bars of his cell door.

Evelyn sighed. The boy looked much too comfortable, like it was something he'd done with some frequency. He was still wearing his clothes from the previous night, and that, along with the pose gave Evelyn the chills. It was like it was Bobby, coming back to haunt her.

She shook her head a bit, trying to clear it. Jack wasn't Bobby. In fact, as she glanced at his face, that point became more obvious. Jack was nothing like Bobby. Yes, they'd lived similar –although far from identical –lives, but other than that, they were completely different.

At thirteen, Bobby had already become a hardened thug. The life he'd lead had forced him to shut down his emotions, just to survive the nightmares of his childhood. Even to look at Bobby now, people could tell. Bobby was a man who'd went through hell, and walked away with only part of his soul intact.

But looking at Jack's eyes, it was almost like watching a little boy play dress up. He played the part, and had the look, but it was all acting. He was hiding it well, but Evelyn could tell, he was scared.

"Not too much longer, honey. Just until we get a few more things settled."

"Like what? What the hell is there to settle?" He demanded, pushing himself off of the bars, beginning to pace the room like a caged animal. "I've gotta get home. As it is…"His voice trailed off, as his face paled a bit. Quite a feat, given that he had a prostitute's normal pale skin.

"What happens if you're not home in time, Jack?" Evelyn asked softly, scooting her chair closer to the boy's cell. When she received no answer, she probed, "Does he beat you? Starve you? What happens, Jack?"

Jack sighed, dropping down on the dingy looking bed, hanging his head. "It's… it's not me. I… after a while, the beatings… I just didn't feel 'em anymore. I could take it. I didn't cry. And uh… he didn't like that. And that was when he started…" He paused, biting his lip for a minute, before taking a deep breath. "After a while… that stopped hurting too. So he started beatin' on my mom, and Mikey. So if I don't get home on time… Or if I don't… if I don't earn enough… he beats 'em. Or he'd lock Mikey and me up in separate rooms in the basement. I don't mind too much anymore, but Mike… he's scared of the dark. Hates it down there. And he's got… that breathing problem. Asthma. So when he starts panicking, he has a hard time breathing. After… after we had to take him to the hospital once… This is the first time I haven't been home at seven since then."

Evelyn smiled sadly. "You do a lot for your brother, don't you, Jack?" She asked softly.

Jack brought his head up, and a small smile appeared on his face. "Yeah. I mean, I gotta. He's my little brother, you know?"

"How else do take care of him, Jack?"

"I walk him to preschool and back, make him meals, do his laundry, help him with his schoolwork… Stuff like that." There was no mistaking the pride in his voice, and Evelyn smiled again. In that aspect, he had a lot in common with Bobby.

"Sounds like you're more of a parent than a brother, Jack. Where's your mother?"

Jack flinched, hanging his head again. "She uh… She pretty much just… I mean, she… she drinks a lot, so she spends most of her time in the bedroom. Tries to stay out of Pete's way, I guess. And I don't mind takin' care of Michael. He's a real good kid. Smart too. I mean, I don't do that good in school, but Mike… he already knows how to add, subtract, and read. Not like real books or anything, but kids' books."

"He does sound smart," Evelyn agreed. "But you'd probably do well in school if you didn't spend most of your nights… 'working'," She said quietly, giving him a pointed look.

Jack pulled his knees up to his chest, leaning back against the wall, as he looked away. "I uh… It's not… I don't wanna talk about it anymore, alright? I just wanna get outta here, and go see my brother."


End file.
